His Beauty Her Beast
by Arendora
Summary: He loved her from the very moment he saw her, she became his kismet-his obsession. She loved him as well but can she forgive him the sins his past? Come witness a bookish know-it-all tame the wild dragon gyspy of London.


This is my entry for the Forbidden Fruits Fest. This story won Runner Up on Best Forbidden Couple. As always I do not own Harry Potter that privilege belongs to JK Rowling.

Also would lile to thank the amazing Kristie-Lee Perot for being my beta on this story, girl you rock!! thank you for kicking my butt and helping me finish this, love you bunches!

Also, the spelling will seem off, I have written this story in British please do not try to tell me I can not spell, use a dictionary (a British one) it is all correct. Thanks

Arendora

She was a fugitive. He worked for the corrupt Ministry. They are opposites in beliefs, politics, and more importantly - blood.

He thinks she's beautiful. She thinks he's a Byron-esque anti-hero - Mad, BAD and dangerous to know.

Even talking to her is forbidden.

Sometimes, though, you have to experience what one cannot have...

Addicted

A poem that was written to "my beautiful" from the one who loves you.

Scabior

I am no one…

But, I want you to know who I am…

Would you stay if you did?

Not, likely.

There was a time I wanted to be someone.

I have hopes and dreams, do you really want to know them?

I can be insanely stupid, but you already know this.

Yes, I really can be blissfully stupid, I understand why you don't trust me.

Would you honestly still love me if I told you what you insist to know?

Would you?

My heart bleeds with the realization you would hate me for a fraction of my true self.

My soul is tired.

You can't fix me, beautiful, why even try?

Life isn't black and white.

We are all stuck in perpetual grey.

I can't quit you.

I crave you, my own personal addiction.

My mind races with thoughts of you, stretching into infinity, will I ever gaze upon your beautiful face again?

We are a neuron induced inferno, burning everything we touch.

You knocked me off kilter, my beautiful, wrecked my entire existence.

Everything I knew was shattered.

Everything I believed was flawed.

Give me a chance, one more time, to prove it will only ever be you.

Let me give you a reason to stay, to know and to feel.

No matter how hard and jaded I am, beautiful, I will always-always, love you.

London:

2003

The rain is so damn depressing, it makes even the most brilliant colours dull, lifeless, slick, and sickly grey. Do you believe we are all categorized into black and white? When do the lines blur between right and wrong, black and white, good and evil? We simply deluding ourselves into believing that world is not just simply grey in every sense of the word.

Darkness, that dark grey that has settled into my very soul, fits me like a glove; there really was never any light until you came into my life. Gray and black, yes, there has always been plenty of grey and black. My entire life has always been categorized into bad and downright dangerous. This is a technicality of growing up a poor half-blood on the streets in London; the underground is my home, the vile, poor and unkempt are my people. How could I ever think you would accept these things and be alright with it, no that was just an ignorant assumption?

Most people are greyer in nature rather than dark or light. Most people simply use that grey inside of themselves to justify the darkness that creeps and bleeds slowly across their soul; corrupting and strangling all of your humanity. They never fully embrace that path, choosing to stay standing on the precipice tempting fate but never plunging into the inky black abyss; some fall head first and drown in it.

I know this darkness inside of me, it has been my friend for a very long time, my only friend really, the only one I could ever count on to stay at any rate; I don't like the alternative of simply existing, a life without embracing anything, it's a scary place to be and I have been in that place too many times to ever be comfortable with simply demonizing those that have to succumb to such weaknesses.

So, here I lay, with whoever this is at the moment, embracing the darkness, silent sighs in the night escaping them as my darkness reaches out to touch theirs, this isn't new to me it never was. It was always expected my path would follow here, yet I can't help but wonder if you had stayed if you had stayed hidden..No! I can't think that way, you were never going to stay you were always going to leave just like everyone else had done before you. You're grey, the only light to ever settle my soul, you are always brilliant in whatever shade you claim.

Yet, I can still taste and feel skin beneath mine; I still see your face in every nameless woman I bring to my bed. Every one of them wants the same thing and because of you, I can never give it to them.

I want you.

I need you!

I crave you, like a damn drug, it's almost unbearable in its intensity.I am an addict without the means to self-inflict. I desperately and hopelessly search for you in others but they aren't 'you', none of them can ever be 'you'. Your moves, your voice, your touch, your smell, it can never be duplicated, Merlin knows I've tried in every nameless, faceless woman I can bring myself to touch. They all may look like you in some fucked up physical way, they all may be intelligent but they are not you. I can use them to satiate the infernal craving for an hour or two but I can never stand much longer, always, in the end, it is your name on my lips in the last visage of passion that makes me want more.

"Hello, beautiful…."

So damn much more.

I feel empty.

The smoke rises out of this lit cigarette and already I am wanting this woman to leave. I already feel the hatred for this woman boiling to the surface. They never stay, I never let them stay, they are just a body to me. I can hear her speaking to me and it sounds jumbled a foreign language and it's irritating the hell out of me. I move away from her roaming hands.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I jerk my arm away from her.

I really want her to leave now. It seems this time, as so many times before, I will have to be the arsehole and make her cry so she will finally get the damn hint.

"Go" my voice is hoarse but the command is clear and one look at the horrified expression on her face tells me she really wasn't expecting me to be this way.

"But…" But? There are no buts, just leave me faceless body, just leave me in my darkness!

"NOW! GET OUT!" I throw her clothes at her and drag her to the door and push her out, I run my hand through my dark hair making it even more dishevelled than it was before.

Obsessed. I already know this is unhealthy, I already know she hates me. It is a festering self-inflicted hatred. Even Severus Snape couldn't match the amount of self-loathing I currently hold.

Nervous energy is pouring off of me in waves and I really just want to punch something, anything...someone, but I settle for taking a shower instead. I have to wash the smell of my latest distraction from me, she smelled of cheap cigarettes and whiskey, nothing like warm honey and vanilla 'beautiful'.

These racing thoughts are drowning me, I need to go out, to get a drink, to lose myself in the melancholy of my own mind before I go on a murderous rampage. There will be no more distractions that can consume me tonight but you. You have invaded me so thoroughly I can't let you go.

I go through the motions: dry off, dress, throw on my jacket, grab my wand and head out the door, the same damn motions. Every. Fucking. Time.

Hello darkness, fancy having a drink?

The bartender, Aberforth, he knows me well; I have been coming here for years because he doesn't pry. Unless your name happens to be Mundungus Fletcher then you are welcome. He simply nods and hands me three shots of Fire Whiskey. I stare down at the liquid and quickly inhale all three shots, the burn numbing my throat as well as my mind. Finally a distraction I can use more than an hour.

I stare numbly around the grungy old tavern, not a lot has changed in it since the war, that thought is comforting at least. The same dusty and dirty tables and same mismatched chairs litter the floor. The windows still have forty years worth of dirt and Aberforth is still using the same dirty cloth to wipe the same dirty glasses. There aren't many people in there this time of the night, a few sitting at the bar, one old hag with a veil sitting in the corner eyeballing all the rest of the patrons. I laugh at this because I know this is Dung, I really am surprised Aberforth hasn't figured this out by now.

I see a woman in the mirror behind the bar, she has long brown hair in ringlets around her face, creamy white skin, pink lips and golden chocolate eyes in a shirt and trousers that clings to her every curve. She is laughing, her melodious voice is a balm to my scorching soul. I clench my fist against the bar, it is you, my 'beautiful'. I grab the next shot laid in front of me and grip the glass almost to the point of shattering, you haven't seen me yet, I continue to watch you.

Your small hand is gripping another man's arm as you continue to laugh, an emotion I have never felt before grips me. Anger? No, not precisely, sadness, heartache, shock. Yes, all of the above. Jealousy, that is what this emotion is; I want to be that man whose arm you was touching, I want to run my fingers across your hand and have you laugh at my jokes. I want to pummel the shit out of this man until you let him go. You suddenly become the only colour in the darkness; I want to devour it….devour you.

My anger rises again, I watch as you are being led out to dance but not by the man you were laughing at butut with another woman, a redhead with insanely long locks and too much makeup. You start to dance, and immediately I see the redhead being snatched up by the other man at the table, Harry Potter. Come to think of it, I heard they were getting married.

The sudden urge to press myself against you overwhelms me and without stopping myself, I have my hands around your waist from behind. My hands are caressing the tight, silky, red shirt you're wearing. Your now womanly curves fit perfectly into my hands. I remember the first time I ever held you against me, your body still conforms to mine.

You are taller than I remember, the top of your head hits my nose and I am surrounded by your intoxicating scent: warm vanilla and honey. You start to move away and I grip you harder, my lips touch your ear and my breath makes you shiver.

"Jus' enjoy the dance, beautiful," I whisper, even though you are still stiff you finally begin to move again.

"Why are you here?" you whisper back.

"Shhh...just' feel the music." my hands fall to your hips and I pull you against me, I want to caress you, feel every inch of your skin against my own. You loop your arms behind my neck and lean fully against me; you lay your pretty little head on my shoulder. My hands find your waist again and travel just far enough north to touch the underside of your breasts. You sigh against my shoulder, my grip tightens and the world seems to fall away.

"You shouldn't be here…"

Yes...but I already am beautiful.

"Ladon, Hermione for tonight just call me Ladon."

"Hmmm...Ladon Scabior, the dragon of the London underground; It fits you Scabior, you always did burn everything in your path."

Do you want me to be the London Dragon again, Hermione? Do you want me to devour your body and soul along with everyone else?

"Yes, The London Dragon," I whisper into your ear and she shivers.

I can feel her smile against my shoulder.

"I suppose the makes you The London Dragon's Lady then does it?"

"Absolutely not, you ruined that years ago, Scabior."

I stop.

I spin you around to face me.

"Ladon…" Your beautiful face suddenly becomes bewildered; as you take a step back.

"Eventually you will have to hear my side of the story, beautiful; you have kept me from explaining for five bloody years now!"

"Stop!" It was a frightened whisper, one I wish I could say I had never evoked in you. I step up to you again, wrapping my arms tightly around your waist and pulling you back towards me.

"It has been a long time, beautiful. Too. Bloody. Long." I breathe into your hair. You smell differently, but still the same somehow. You still fit the same way.

"That isn't my name!"

"It has always been your name to me."

You struggle to free yourself from my embrace and I hold tighter.

"Scabior." You try to make it threatening but my name on your lips is a caress. I feel myself hardening just thinking of you saying it while I am laying on top of you.

"I am pleased you remembered me, beautiful."

"What the bloody hell do you want from me?!"

I hear myself chuckle, this girl- no, woman, you have no idea the wicked things I want to do to you... again. Since the very first moment I smelled you years before, you have become the object of my obsession: my kismet, my fate. I still carry that scarf, it no longer holds your scent but just the idea it was once wrapped securely around your pretty little neck, makes me keep it. The memories of using that scarf to hold your arms or blindfold you come rushing back. Nights spent with my hands buried in your curls, lips touching and licking each exposed piece of skin, being buried inside of you; by the gods, I want you again.

"At this moment beautiful, I just want to feel you against me dancing. Eventually, I want to bury my cock so far into you there will be no second-guessing who is making you scream."

"That ended a long time ago, Scabior. We can't do this again."

"Why? Are you expecting the Dark Lord to pop in and Avada us both, beautiful?"

"That isn't funny."

"And this isn't war, Hermione!"

"And we are not doing this!" You squeal and peel yourself away from me to storm back to the table. I know you are going to leave, I can see the defiant streak I have always loved about you, roaring like the lioness that you are.

I watch you grab your things and storm toward the door. My mind is in a whirlwind. Do I stay or do I go after you? That old familiar ruse of being the gentleman slips firmly away as I pursue you through the door and into Hogsmeade. I can't let you get away again, if not for my own sanity at least for our reconciliation.

We parted on different sides in a different age. Your naive world obliviated by a monster who would have killed us both given the chance. I don't think you even know all of the things I did to protect you, I have certainly never told you; I should have. It is just one more sin to add to the plethora I am already saddled with.

"Hermione!"

I see you racing toward the apparation point and I give chase. I catch your arm as you are spinning and we land in a heap on the floor in the parlour of your little flat. I look around, it feels like you, bursting at the seams with books and dark leather furniture. It is warm and inviting.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?! You could have gotten us both splinched!"

I have to throw up my hands to protect my face from the onslaught of slaps you begin to rain upon me.

"Ow! Stop it! Bloody hell woman!"

I grab your hands and pin them to the floor above your head. Your rapid breathing and tears catch me off guard.

"Why are you crying?"

Did I make you cry? Now I feel like an arsehole.

"Please go."

You speak and it sounds like I have tried to kill your damned cat, Crooked-teeth or something like that.

"I just want to talk to you, Hermione; I swear I'm not going to hurt you!"

"You have hurt me plenty enough already, Scabior Please- just go."

Your whispered words make me cringe; you are right even if I did what I did to protect you, you still got hurt and it was my fault.

I continue to stare down at your beautiful face. Even in you distressed, tear-soaked state, you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Your head is turned to the side and you are staring at the cold and empty fireplace. The mantle jam-packed with pictures. I see many of you and your parents, the golden trio, the order and me...

"Please, just' talk to me. I have waited so long just to hear your voice again."

"Why?"

The question with a million different answers. Why are you here?

Why don't you just forget me?

Why did you leave me, to begin with?

Why?

Why?

Why?

"You know why."

My voice is strained from emotion. I want to fold you into my arms and protect you like I couldn't protect you then. All the fail safes we used to keep you hidden and I still had to hand you over to that deranged, crazy bitch, Bellatrix. It is the one thing I can never forgive myself for. Not protecting you, not standing up when I should have.

"Enlighten me, Scabior."

I touch your face and you move your head to look at me. Your eyes are still sparkling with unshed tears.

"Please forgive me," I whisper as I lay my head against your cheek. You still smell like vanilla, honey, and home.

You don't answer me right away, your breathing has slowed and I feel your now freed hands slide to my hair.

" I was never mad at you. I know you were working to help us."

I jerk my head up to stare at her again. What did you know?

"Mundungus Fletcher told us after the battle when we thought you were dead, that you were handing him information to give to Mad-Eye and then to Snape for the Order after Mad-Eye was killed."

Damn you, Dung!

"I assume from your expression you didn't want me to know, but that raises a very simple question as to why?"

"I wanted to tell you."

I wanted too, but it has been five years and I still haven't. Why haven't I? I feel like a scolded petulant child.

"Well, you should have."

"I know, Hermione. That last night with you, right before the rest of the Snatchers came, I wanted to tell you. But, everything went sideways and I couldn't tell you or even protect you. I just kept praying Potter would find a way to get you out of there. Draco was trying his best but Lucius had gone barmy at that point. I think he was just as tired as the rest of us. It should have been easy, in and out, if Bellatrix hadn't shown her ugly face. When that house-elf came and got you out of there, I'd never been so relieved in my life. Then you go and break into Gringotts and steal a fucking dragon! What were you thinking?!"

"There was a Horcrux there."

"A...what?"

This sounded ominous; I'd never heard of a Horcrux until you told me under duress that is what you had been hunting, what it was you were wearing that made you all so suspicious, paranoid and moody.

"A piece of Voldemort's soul was hidden inside Helga Hufflepuffs golden badger cup, it was hidden inside Bellatrix LeStrange's vault. We had to steal it from inside Gringotts. The dragon was our only way of getting out."

"The' locket, the' one you were wearing around your neck; I made you take off, that was the other Horcrux?"

You nodded your head.

"Yes, and it was the reason Ronald left. That thing was evil. It constantly bore into your soul, in every crevice of your mind, even physically causing pain. It made you think the worst possible nightmares, day-in and day-out, never ceasing, always whispering, always making you wonder, always making you lash out in paranoia. Having to wear it felt like molten lava was being poured into my veins, the very essence of his soul scratching, clawing burning through me. I saw things; twisted, dark and evil things, Scabior. Things no one should ever have to witness. It changed me- it changed all of us. Where we were once too trusting of each other it brought discord. Where once we were completely loyal to each other it brought a rift, a rift that even to this day has not been mended properly. Where once I knew with my heart my future lay with Ronald, now we are barely friends. It is sad really, war changes everything. There were seven Horcruxes, not just two."

War changes everything. No truer words had ever been spoken before.

"War changed everyone, baby."

"Don't call me that!"

I frown at you. I want you to see reason, to see that I want you- need you like I need air to breathe. I get why you don't trust me, I am a right arsehole ninety percent of the time. I want to be your protector but how can I when I couldn't even protect you from myself.

"You will always be my beautiful lady, my baby, my love Hermione. Even if you never believe me I swear on all that I am, I will always love you."

I kiss your forehead and raise up to leave. I want you to come to me, I want you to want me but not like this. I want you to trust me again, trust me like you did before when you gave a part of yourself just to me.

"You know where to find me, Hermione. If you ever need me for any reason- any at all, send me a Patronus I will be here. I will always be here for you."

I turn and walk out the door. My heart is heavy, but perhaps there is still hope.

Hermione's perspective: Her thoughts

He smells the same. He still smells like grass and parchment.

I can't let him back in, he shattered me.

Gods, I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to touch me.

No, Hermione! He is off limits, dark... forbidden.

The feel of his hands...God, I love his hands.

He sold me out, he let that crazy bitch torture me, carve my arm as a reminder of what they think of me.

I want him to kiss that scar away.

No! No! No! Never again...Never!

I get off the floor and flop down on my sofa.

I go out for the first time in a year and I run into the one person I have been running from for over five!

I am so angry and confused I want to scream and punch him. And, I want him to wrap me in his arms until we are too old to move.

I hate this, I hate him. No, I don't hate him. I crave him, I crave his presence, his laughter his voice, his heart. By the Gods I love him. I can't do this anymore.

He said he loved me. Do I even entertain the idea that could possibly ever be true? I know him. I know how he works. His smooth tongue, phrases, and whispers of devotion void of emotion. Talking, taking, always taking and then leaving me to pick up the pieces.

Why now? It has been five years, five years of getting past him only to have him follow me and pin me to the floor. What bloody god have I pissed off this time!?

He is still the most handsome man I have ever seen. Like Eros, he makes my body respond in ways no one else ever could.

No, Hermione. Absolutely not!

I get up to fix myself a cup of tea. This night has been a whirlwind of emotions.

I can still feel his hands: gentle, caressing almost reverently running down my waist. The tingly has pooled into my core and I am uncomfortable.

Bloody handsome gipsy! If he had not left I would have given in, I would have let him have all of me...again! Five years is a long time without carnal pleasures. Five bloody damn years! I can't even bring myself to let anyone else touch me.

I break down and sob.

I remember those forbidden rendezvous nights, all of the times he came to me bearing gifts of food and warm clothes. The way he would hold me and whisper words of love and devotion into my ears.

I remember the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour my soul and truly he had.

I remember every little detail of his lips on my lips and his tongue tracing patterns on my stomach.

I remember my birthday, the night I gave my heart away. The night I let my passion for this wild-haired gipsy take me to places I had never dreamed before. Ecstasy. Bliss. Trouble.

The feeling if his skin on my skin, sweat pouring, fireworks exploding behind my eyes as he entered me. It will never be the same with anyone else. I can't even bring myself to explore that option, no one else.

I need answers.

I need closure.

Or

I need him to stay with me until I die of old age.

Why am I even thinking about sending him a message? I am lost again, drifting like a wanderer in the wilderness; craving him like a madman hell-bent on destruction.

Because you love him you, stupid dolt!

The whistle of the kettle startles me out of my internal monologue. I go through the motions of making tea.

One cup…

Boiling water…

Tea leaves…

Sugar...not too much…

Stir.

I need a distraction.

A book? Maybe...no, I don't feel like reading.

The telly? Ok, mindless distractions.

I walk back to the sofa, tea in hand and turn in the telly.

Flipping through all I see are love stories, murders, drama….the news.

Ugh!

I turn it off and throw the remote. There will be no distraction tonight, all if my usual vices are useless. I can't get him out of my mind. His smell is everywhere.

I sip my tea and still, my thoughts are racing towards my unwanted forbidden obsession.

Maybe I just need to go to bed.

Bad idea! Bad-bad-bad...no bed, not right now; not in the state, I am currently in.

My thighs feel wet, I want to claw my skin off. He left me in a horrible state. I am hot and clammy, I am so damn turned on I am shaking.

Meet a stranger at a pub and get over this- first time to try and let loose, nope, it is the one person that can set my body on fire and consume my soul.

"Bloody hell!"

I slam my cup down on the table and tea covers the dark wood. I scrunch my eyes closed. I wave my hand and the tea disappears.

Perhaps I could just have him for tonight and send him on his way tomorrow.

What are you thinking Hermione!

"I am thinking I want him! I want him right now!" I scream to myself.

Without thinking of the consequences, without thinking of what this will mean in the morning I grab my wand out of my holster on my leg and fire off my patronus. The playful otter burst forth, glowing and running around my legs.

I need you, please…

Now all I have to do is wait and see if he will keep his word.

Three minutes and five seconds later a knock shakes my door.

I open my door to a frantic, ready to fight, hulking, gorgeous gipsy.

"What is the emergency?"

I launch myself at him, arms around his neck, legs around his hips. He stumbles back towards the wall.

"Shut the door," I whisper in his ear.

He wandlessly slams the door shut and turns around pinning me to the wall.

" Is this what you wanted me for, beautiful?"

"Yes!"

A growl emitted from his chest. His lips covered mine in a kiss that seemed to suck out my very soul. Lights exploding all around. He grabs my hips harder and rubs his already stiff erection against my core.

"Yes! This is what I want." I am whining and I really don't care. He came, this sinful gorgeous man.

Brand me, make me forget...

He bites my ear, his tongue begins swirling along the base of my earlobe.

"Is this all you want from me, beautiful? An easy fuck and then you throw me out?"

"I need you. You promised." I whimper.

His hands grip me harder, he turns us and walks us to the sofa.

Now I am straddling him. My hands are in his hair and I am rubbing my already aching, dripping core against him. God, I need the friction, the base carnal release only he can give. Screw propriety, I will worry about it later.

"Will you need me tomorrow, beautiful?"

I can't answer that. I can't give him all of me again. This is just one time, right? Not bloody likely, I know I will let him consume me again.

Scabior looks at me, his eyes very serious

And desperate for the right answer. What is the right answer?

"Hermione."

I look at him, his hands have made their way under my shirt and he is rubbing the underside of my breasts.

Not fair, he knows I am sensitive there!

I arch into him, offering my breasts like a platter of food at a feast.

"If I make love to you tonight, if you give me what I have craved for five bloody years, I will never let you go again. I have waited too damn long for you and I will not wait another five years for you to decide if I am worthy enough to please you every night for the rest of our lives, to hold you and protect you, to grow old with you. You have never been and never will be a one night stand, an occasional lover, never. I want to give you the world! But, you have to be sure it is me you want to give you the world, beautiful."

Forever? He sounds like he is proposing!

Then he kissed me. It wasn't wild and frenzied. It was magical, sensual and it broke my heart. Tears begin to stream down my face.

Why Merlin why!?

I place my hand on his face and slowly he ends the kiss. I am completely breathless. I lean my forehead against his. My breath is finally returning, my mind is clearing.

"Tell me why you took me there, Scabior. Tell me why you let her torture me and carve that awful word into my arm."

I remove my hand from his face and pull up the sleeve that held the word 'MUDBLOOD' carved into it. Although the poison from the knife was no longer there the curse that kept it red and puffy still lingered.

Scabior took my arm and kiss each letter, his tongue tracing each letter. It leaves me breathless.

"The night Potter spoke the taboo, the last night I held you in my arms. I had just left you and I was ordered to meet Greyback to scour the forests around where you were because the Weasley boy had shown himself in town buying food. They knew you guys were there. I ran them in circles for hours. We never even came close to your tent. When he broke the protection spells all I could think about was keeping you away from Greyback; I had to play along so I didn't blow my cover. The first person I saw was you, that is why I walked to you first. "

He was staring right through me. His hand was caressing my cheek. Mesmerizing.

"Bellatrix was supposed to be at the ministry. She had a meeting with Dolores Umbridge about bumping up the proceedings for the 'Muggleborn registry'. That vile, evil woman had them chained in a dungeon under LeStrange Manor. She personally tortured and killed them, Hermione.Sick bitch got off on it, she always was insane but she was even more so after she escaped Azkaban. The place was frightening to be sure and there was no way I was going to take you there. But, I had to take you somewhere, Malfoy Manor was literally the only option I had that I knew I could get you out relatively unharmed."

His voice cracked with raw emotion, my heart began to clench and thaw.

"I knew Draco was helping the Order, at least he was trying too. Snape being his godfather and all, I figured he could help me get you free again. I wasn't expecting Bellatrix to be there. At the most, I thought I would have to duel Lucius but he didn't even have a wand at the time. When Bellatrix came into that room…"

He just stopped and shook his head, his fingers found my waist and were digging much harder than they had been before. His face was turning red, unreleased anger evident across his handsome features.

"If I could have killed that bitch right then and there, if she had not disabled me...if, if, if."

"That is a lot of "if's.'" I mumble. I want to trust him, I want to hold him and ease this pain from him. I want forever as well. That is a lot of wants.

"If you give me a chance, I will lay the world at your feet, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up that night to you."

I see the unshed tears he is trying to hold back, I feel the deep breaths he is taking to steel his heart against rejection. I want him, I crave him in every sense of the word, but I'm not ready to trust him again even if I have forgiven him. But, I want to. I want to believe he would never sell me out again, to believe he is loyal to me and only me.

I frame his face again, and he looks down into my eyes. I kiss him, not a passion induced crazed kiss, it isn't even particularly sweet; it is painful and hard, all of the anger I had let seep into my very soul was pouring out of that kiss. All of our past hopes and regrets were exploding through contact and I feel my tears and his tears pooling around my face as I cling to him shamelessly. I break the kiss and stare at him, God's he is gorgeous.

"Take me to dinner, Scabior. If you want me, you will do so the proper way for a change. No more hiding, no more running, no more regrets. We start over and do it right this time."

He is smiling now, his face lights up when he smiles. He nods his head and pulls me to his chest in a rib-crushing hug, I can barely breathe but honestly, t the moment could care less.

"Alright, beautiful. I will take you on a proper date at a proper restaurant."

"And then I get to show you Muggle London, Scabior."

He chuckles at this and I can feel a smile blooming on my lips.

"I have seen Muggle London, Hermione."

"Not, the London I know you haven't."

"Alright, London through the eyes of Hermione Granger, tomorrow, I will pick you up at seven."

"Yes, seven will be fine."

I don't want to let him leave me just yet so I lay my head down on his shoulder and just breathe him in. The same spicy smelling shampoo and aftershave, the same softness to his long shiny black hair, he smells the same.

"Don't leave me, Scabior. Please just hold me."

I feel the wetness on his shoulder from my tears.

"I will do anything you want, beautiful, anything for you. I promise."

"I will hold you to that promise, Ladon."

"I know, Hermione."

I wake up to the tick-tock of the clock on the mantle. I am hot, much hotter than I normally would be this time of night. I feel something against my nose, I breathe in deeply and it smells so sexy it makes me moan. Memories of the evening flood my mind and I realize I am perched on top of Scabior. Somehow he has positioned us laying on the couch instead of us sitting and has his arms are wrapped securely around me. His broad shoulders moved with each inhales and exhale of his breath. I want to lay like this forever.

"Did I wake you up, beautiful?"

His hand reaches up and is playing with the ends of my hair.

"No," I say against the skin of his neck, right behind his ear, his grip tightens.

You thought I had forgotten you are sensitive there, didn't you?

"Hermione."

It is so incredibly sexy the way he moans my name.

"Yes, Ladon?"

I giggle, he growls and suddenly I am under him. His eyes are staring at me with a lust so strong it nearly robs me of breath.

"If you don't want me to fuck you into this couch you had better stop."

"Tease."

I smirk and run my fingernails down the back of his neck, he growls even as he arches into my touch.

"Bloody witch is going to be the death of me!"

"I did ask you to come back."

"Thought you wanted to do it right this time, beautiful."

He is dead serious even as one of his hands is clenched in my hair and the other is sliding along my thigh. I am shivering, the feather-like feel of his fingers are driving me spare.

"Please…" I hear myself whisper, I want him.

"Please what, beautiful?"

"Fuck me."

"What if I don't want to fuck you, what if I want to consume you, Hermione; to make love to you with all the love I hold for you? To leave you breathless, wanting, craving me forever; I already told you, this won't be a one-off. If I have you right now you are mine do you understand? Perhaps that is possessive, but I won't use you, I love you too much. I am not going to touch you again until you have made up your mind, until you know for certain it is me you want."

He kissed me, slow and methodically, he stole the rest of my soul. He stared into my eyes and left me lying breathless and sobbing on the sofa.

Chapter 2

Remembering

We had been running for so long I forgot how to interact with anyone outside of Ron and Harry. It was easy to almost forget sometimes, we were at war and we were on the run. Months and months spent in this tent that smelled of mothballs, cats, and sweaty men; yes we could almost forget but there was always the sense of danger, a sense of being watched that would invade in the cover of darkness.

I remember quite clearly the first time I ever saw you, I was invisible to you but even then you smelled my perfume. I watched you standing there, smelling the air, this serene gaze passing across your face as you hesitated and ultimately led the snatchers away from us. You were gorgeous and I was thinking how you would have fit nicely inside a gothic novel about evil gipsies, you were dangerous and dark, I was completely enthralled by you even if I wanted to run as far from you as I could.

Do you recall that night we spent staring at the lake just talking until dawn? I will never forget it. You caught me unaware coming from the lake I was bathing in, you stood at the edge, slack-jawed and in a trance watching me in the moonlight as if I was the lady of the lake offering Excalibur. I didn't scream, I merely stared back.

You had already become the object of my more erotic nightmares, I knew you were mad, bad and dark after all we were on opposite sides of that damn war. It was easy in my dark little corner of the tent to imagine you with your hands in my hair, sliding up my legs, finding the wetness you caused there. Yes, it was very easy to imagine you as my hero instead of my hunter.

"Your name is beautiful, that is what I will call you."

'Beautiful', you have always called me that.

Many times I have thought back to that night, the first time you ever spoke to me. Your voice has always been as smooth as velvet, a caress that makes me shiver. The first time you spoke to me, I was already lost to you. I really don't believe you have ever known just how much of me you own.

That night you touched me, not physically, you touched my mind; you are surprisingly intelligent. I began to realize then how dangerous this liaison was going to be. That was only the first night of much more to come. I left that clearing with a guilty conscious but elated, you were my own dirty little secret, one I thought at the time would ultimately get me killed or at the very least captured.

That was the night Ronald left us, the tears I shed on his behalf made you angry. That was the first night you held me and I cried. I often wonder if the Snatchers who caught him that night let him go because of you. You made me take that evil locket off and you held me, hostage, until I told you what we were hunting. I will never forget that look on your face, that is when you told me you would help us.

The very next day we left that place, I tied my scarf to that tree for you to find and I left clues for you to follow, it was a dangerous game of hiding and seek.

Two days later you brought us food, it was the best bread I have ever eaten; even to this day, I remember the warm heavenly smell and taste. I haven't eaten anything like it since.

That is the day you kissed me, you kissed me as if you were starving for oxygen. You became my dark obsession, even now you remain the one who holds all the pieces of me.

I wish sometimes I could turn back the clock to the night we were captured, I wish I could feel secure wrapped up in you again. I was so damn angry at your betrayal I didn't see the bigger picture, perhaps I still don't. The nightmares of that night still plague me, but you are right I have never let you explain yourself before.

When I saw you tonight at the bar, I wanted to run straight into your arms; I also wanted to punch your handsome face in. Then you touched me, your hands around my waist, a simple touch really, and my world shattered once again. I still remember every little detail of every stolen kiss, every sigh, every moan. I remember the feel of you caressing my skin, of making love to me under the stars.

I have been hiding from you for so long I honestly don't know if I can stop. Yes, Scabior I love you, I love you so bloody much my soul aches from it. I want so much from you that I know you can't give me, but again I have never allowed you to try have I? Will this new beginning truly be the start of a new beginning or will I be left in pieces again, I don't bloody know? I would like to think we are past the danger and our lives can move forward, but at this moment laying here on this couch all I can think about is how bloody much my heart hurts just from you walking out that door.

I know why you did, don't get me wrong you did the right thing, but it still hurts. I still want to fall asleep with you, I still want to feel your fingers in my hair. I want to lay next to you and never leave even if the entire world fucking burns down around us as long as you and I are there together to watch it.

The streets are slick from rain, a light mist has settled over the cobbled streets. The moon is hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds and slowly, I make my way back down the to my rundown hovel on the edge of Knockturn Alley. I can't help but feel like an arse for leaving you sitting there on your sofa crying, but dammit I love you too much to use you that way. If anyone could be more self-deprecating than I am at this very moment I would hate to meet them.

I remember watching you cry on the floor of Malfoy Manor, I would have rather plucked out my own eyes than to see you cry like that again.

Perhaps I am just a coward.

My mind drifts back to that first night I watched you in the lake, I knew exactly who you were, your picture was plastered on every available surface in Diagon Alley. You rose through the water like a nymph, water cascading down your skin, your hair flowing behind you in the water; I was totally unprepared for seeing you in person, you took my breath away.

It sounds cliche, love at first sight, but I swear by all that I am it is true. I knew I could and would never forget you. Those months, even in the middle of a war, was the happiest I had ever been. I have spent years trying to forget you; it just hasn't happened yet, tonight proves to me beyond doubt that I never will.

Laying here on this sofa I feel like a damned fool. I did everything to him that I would abhor if it had been done to me. I tried to use him for my own personal gain, that isn't me! I have known for years where you are, Scabior. I work at the ministry, I found you the first week I was there.

I sat and looked at that file for hours, just trying to keep myself from seeking you out. The picture they have of you, I remember quite well; it is one of you standing by the tree with your hands twirling your ring. I made a copy and placed it on my mantle next to the picture of me in the red dress for the first celebration after the war. I think you noticed it didn't you?

I stare at it often enough to know your appearance, while less gipsy like now, hasn't really changed. You are still as handsome as you have always been. Your smile still captivates me. I still love you, Scabior and I swear by all that I am, I always will.

How long have I been lying here staring at that picture? Minutes? Hours?

I feel my resolve break just thinking about tonight's events. I have been holding out for years wanting an apology, yet here you gave me one. You gave me that apology and refused to take advantage of the situation laid to prettily before you.

Do I dare go to you How can I not? How can I leave you to believe I don't want you for a lifetime? That was never in question, Scabior. I want you like I want hose elves to be free.

I gather my courage, my heart feels full, I will find you and make you understand just how much I love you. Even when I thought we would all die, even when hope seemed lost, even when Bellatrix carved up my arm and tortured me: I still loved you.

I search for my shoes, I really can't say why, to be honest, I have a closet full of shoes but it is a distraction to keep me from running out that door and making a fool of myself.

The feeling of your hands on my waist at the Hogshead tonight brings back all the memories of us in sharp focus. I remember so much, especially the nights we made love, your calloused hands running up my thighs, touching and rubbing. The feel of your mouth against me, warm and wet, pleasure bursting all over my body.

I remember the moment you entered me, that first time, it hurt so bloody damn much, you had assumed like everyone else that I wasn't a virgin; the shock and awe on your face as you stared at my tear-streaked face, the soothing words you spoke, I knew then you would always be the one I love forever. That time is precious to me, there has never been anyone else, not that they haven't tried but even in long-term relationships I just can't allow anyone else touch me because they simply are not 'you'.

I am running, my hair is plastered to my face and neck from the drizzling rain. I know where I am going, but the almost hostile glares I receive as I turn down Knockturn Alley almost breaks my resolve. But, I keep pushing forward; I need you, not just physically but in every sense, if the damn word I need you.

The air smells mouldy, the rain doesn't drown that fact out. The narrow cobbled streets wind precariously close to each leaning structure but at the moment I can't think on how these people deserve better than this putrid place.

I see the door in the distance, it was once bright blue but the paint is cracked and peeling from time. I am soaked to the bone now, and I am cold but I still find the courage to knock on the door.

Once

Twice

And I hear a click, you take my breath away standing there with just your pants slung low over your hips, holding a glass full of what I assume is Fire Whiskey. Your expression is painful, all of the love and longing is poured into your eyes, you are trying to drown me out but this time I won't let you.

You stare at me, it's unnerving and I just want to touch you, but I have to say what I need to say and if you leave again then I will let you go, I promise.

"I love you, I have always loved you and I always will love you. I can't live without you, Scabior. These past years have been torture, what I do isn't living, it is merely existing. I spend my days working and I come home to an empty flat and stare at your picture on my mantle. I lay in bed and play the memories of our time together in my head over and over until I cry myself to sleep.

I have dated but no one else has ever touched me because the idea of them not being you repulses me.

I could say I forgive you for that night, but honestly, there is nothing to forgive; you did what you had to do to keep us safe. I knew about Le Strange manor, I heard stories through the Wizarding Wireless. You could have turned us in at any time but you didn't. My own sense of betrayal is because you didn't come for me after that night.

I woke up in Shell Cottage screaming your name, and eventually, I had to tell Harry and Ron. Ron still hasn't forgiven me, but Harry has told me a thousand times I need to talk to you. It is my own cowardice that I haven't until now.

I don't want you for one night, Ladon I want you for the rest of my damned life. I want to grow old with you and have children and a home with you! Perhaps our love was forbidden years ago, but now I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks about us.'

Suddenly I am engulfed in your embrace, I feel you shaking and tears pouring down my chest. I cling to you and I feel at home. You said everything I want, everything I crave. I will never let you go again, beautiful.

"My beauty."

You smile and even in the rain, the sun is beaming down.

"My gipsy beast."


End file.
